Page 67 of With Wine Comes War

We got back to the penthouse, showered and changed, then I started going through his fridge and pantry to decide what to make for dinner. Hmmm, his pantry is as big as my closet. I grabbed my phone off the shelf deciding I needed some music to drown out the thoughts of the court hearing for now. I flipped to a station that had a lot of Miley Cyrus on it. I need some feminist beats; this will be perfect. “Flowers” was the first song to play, and it had my ass gyrating so hard I felt like I was Miley in concert; in the pantry, HA!

Even the music wasn’t enough to stave off the anxiety completely, and I put my hands on my knees, taking one deep breath and then another. It’s hard work trying to pull this off. That’s when I saw a bag of quinoa calling my name and some brown rice. Hopefully he had chicken in the fridge too. He did and some fresh broccoli. Perfect, now I can focus on dinner and not get distracted by the noise in my head. I shimmied all through the kitchen as I cooked and sipped on wine.

Roman was sitting on the sofa watching television, so I called over to him to see if he wanted something to drink.

He came over and sat on one of the stools at the kitchen island. “I’ll have a glass of wine, your choice.” He licked his lips as he looked me up and down stopping on my swaying hips.

I winked, pulling out the nice bottle of chardonnay I had open in the fridge and poured him a glass then topped off mine. He said he came over to watch me cook but that look would suggest he was just ogling me, probably remembering the hot tub, which was fucking insane. I couldn’t control my need to sink my claws into him and mark him, but I don’t think he liked it as much as I did.

“What are you making for dinner, Chef Alex?”

“A yummy garlic chicken over brown rice and quinoa with fresh steamed broccoli.”

He seemed excited and surprised.

“Damn, do I even have all that in my kitchen?”

I laughed. Why wouldn’t he know what he had in his kitchen?

“Don’t you do the grocery shopping?”

He gave me a guilty look and said, “No, Amelia does it for me and has it delivered.”

“Well, she and I like the same provisions, that’s for sure. We should have her and Harrison over one night for dinner this week,” I suggested.

“Yes, we should. I would love that.” He agreed and tapped his glass to mine. I was starting to feel domestic, and it felt weird. I bet it’s just him rubbing off on me now that I’m trying to get him to stop worrying about me.

After dinner and a couple glasses of wine I announced, “We should discuss the next two weeks.”

He said, without even a second thought, “Move in with me. Forget the next two weeks and just move in.”

Um, excuse me? What the fuck!I thought this was going to be a relaxing night.

I started getting dizzy and my breathing quickened as I stumbled to a chair. “I need to sit down for a minute.” I put my head between my knees. He kneeled in front of me with both hands on the arm of the chair.

“Alex, that’s where we’re headed anyway,” he insisted.

I shook my head. I couldn’t even pick it up to look at him. “Roman, why did you do that? I was so relaxed thinking that this was going to be an easy conversation. I don’t even know what we are right now, and you want to move in permanently?”

“Why does everything have to be so damn complicated with you?” he yelled, sounding really pissed as he laid back on the floor covering his face with his hands to muffle his tone.

I’m complicated?I just wanted to discuss the next two weeks, not forever.

“I could say the same thing about you,” I shouted back while squeezing the life out of the arm of the chair.

“I just know what I want.” He sat up and moved toward me again like a predator about to attack its prey.

“Well, I don’t.” I threw my hands in the air in frustration.

“You can’t say you haven’t thought about it.”

I need to steer this in another direction before I have a full-blown panic attack.

I got up and scrambled away from him. “Roman, I’m going to clean the kitchen and put my clothes in the spare bedroom.”

He practically jumped up off the floor and grabbed my arm, spinning me around.

“Nope, not this time.” He shook his head. “No more subject changes. We’re talking about this, now,” he demanded.

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